


Drama Kids

by justalittlegreen



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Broadway, Drama Kids AU, Friendship, Houlihawk friendship, Margaret Hawkeye Friendship, Singing, Theater - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-28
Updated: 2019-03-26
Packaged: 2019-10-18 02:16:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17572400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justalittlegreen/pseuds/justalittlegreen
Summary: An AU set in a near-contemporary high school. Ben Pierce is the lead in all the musicals. Maggie Houlihan is a stage manager par excellence. BJ is in his first year on tech crew, manning a trepidatious spotlight that illuminates more than an act. Max runs costumes, Peggy masters props, and teachers Mr. Potter and Mr. Blake are director and tech director, respectively. Francis is the rehearsal pianist.And one night, Ben catches Maggie alone.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [the drama kids](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=the+drama+kids).



> for the drama kids of the swamp  
> thanks for loving this as much as I do

Sometimes, after rehearsal is over, and Margaret's entrusted with locking the place up, she goes to the middle of the stage, in the dark. She finds her way by the dim red glow of the exit lights - doesn't need to see anything else. Knows that stage as well as her own face. She comes down center and stands there, holding her quiet court. Some nights, that’s enough. And some nights, when she really really doesn't want to go home, she sings [The Music and the Mirror ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tOWh6LSHa48)until all the feelings are left in the dark.  
  
Then she locks up, checking both locks, tugging at the door to make sure. Makes her way to her beater twelve-year-old Civic and takes the longest possible route home.

And then, one night, Ben Pierce comes back because he's forgotten his jacket and he's surprised to find the door still open, starts fumbling quietly in the dark for the light switch and he hears someone doing that sotto voce opening line  - [ _something has changed within me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yf9Bt5WFZKs) _._

It takes him a few seconds to place it but he knows that voice. He tumbles it over in his head, desperately trying to make sense of what he knows of Maggie Houlihan and how it squares with this voice. He’s so used to hearing her in one of two modes - carries-across-half-the-seats shrill, or clipped and calm on the Gd mic.

Straight-up vocal diva never really factored into it.

He’s still mulling it over as she hits the modulation and belts _so if you care to find me / look to the western sky,_ and even though he knows it’s coming, he actually gasps. He can practically hear the orchestration behind her; it's so there and he still can't see a damn thing.   
  
She finishes. He jams his fists in his pockets so he won't clap. Holds his breath as silence settles over the house.

He can hear her catching her breath in the dark and footsteps, but not fading, like she's pacing, or walking in circles.

And when he hears the her next choice he stuffs a knuckle in his mouth.

[ _Mama, who bore me_ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sFQX3YsF1ME)

There's a part of him that's so tempted to kick in the backup - he can just about hit it, in falsetto. He’s clinging to the curtain in the wings, jacket forgotten, letting her carry him away on the song. It’s raw and mournful and angry.  
  
It’s perfect.

She runs out of breath on the last note, fades out. Ben hopes she can’t hear the way his heart is pounding, the way he couldn’t help moving, dancing against the heavy velvet, contemplates revealing himself with a cough, or a stumble, but -  
  
She's crying. Silent. Only the long, gasping shudders in between silences give her away.   
  
What the everloving fuck, Ben thinks. Who the hell is his stage manager when the lights go down? He’s flipping through a mental catalog every duet he's ever wanted a worthy partner for - how could this have been a secret for so long? And simultaneously: why the hell is she crying? Who could’ve hurt someone that strong that badly?

(It does not stop him from casting every show from here to graduation, with her in all the leads. Elphaba. Eliza. Maria. Maureen. Hell, she could probably pull off Adelaide. Or Mary fucking Poppins.)

He's debating whether to go after her - call her name - say something? Anything has to be better than sitting here and listening to a hurt he can't even begin to understand.

She’ll never forgive him if he does, if she knows he heard her swallowing sobs in between soulful renditions of songs he quietly wishes were his to sing. Maggie Houlihan is, to the quivering freshmen in her squad, an ice queen with a razor tongue and impossible standards. The ones who’ve known her longer know there’s a tenderness under there, a softening that shows itself only when it’s most needed. She’s talked Ben down from more than one ledge, her voice soft and confident and reassuring, like a nurse.

The room is quiet. And Ben feels a song in his pocket, on the edge of his tongue, and somehow he knows. He wildly picks a key that seems workable, tries to hold the note in his head.

[ _Someone just came in the door_   
](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pMAuesRJm1E)

He hears her startle, thinks: damnit, this is the part where she turns the lights on, sees him lurking like a creeper, punches him in the face and gets him kicked out of the show.

But she doesn't.

So he keeps going: _like no one I ever saw before_ _  
_ _I feel -_

And then, just a hair before he should come in on the next beat, she gets there.

 _I don't know where you came from_   
_I wish I did_ _  
_I feel so dumb

_I feel_

He keeps his voice soft, keeps it light, lets her carry them as he slowly steps out of the wings. She throws him the line, and he passes it right back - 

 _your swagger -_   
_\- and your bearing_   
_and the just-right clothes you're wearing_   
_your short hair -_   
_\- and your dungarees_ _  
_and your lace up boots

And her voice is clear, but Margaret is thinking thinking _damnit, damnit, damnit_. Everyone is going to know. EVERYONE is going to know. Ben Pierce has never kept a fucking secret long enough to taste it.

But damn if his voice doesn't feel good next to hers.

And when he drops a fifth on the chorus, brings a little grounding to _and your keys, oh- oh - your ring of keys_ she feels it in her sternum, in the place where good things happen.

 _I thought it was supposed to be wrong_ he starts softly, and she hears that he's singing to her now.

 And damnit, she has always wanted to be sung to exactly like this, except she didn't know it could be like this. Didn't know that a duet could be about something other than a wrapped-up infatuation, didn't know that harmonizing could make the world feel bigger than the two people making it.  
_but you seem okay with being strong_   
_I want_   
_you're - so -_   
He’s actually stumbling. He's actually at a loss, and she picks it up with grace:   
_it's probably conceited to say_ _  
_but I think we're alike in a certain way

 _Oh and if only you knew, Benjamin Franklin Pierce_ , she thinks. _If only you had the faintest clue, you bisexual drama queen with no sense of privacy -_

This time when he comes in with the chorus, he's not singing in awe, but in recognition:

_your swagger, and your bearing, and the just right clothes you're wearing_

It's almost funny because she IS wearing lace-up boots, though her hair is always in a ponytail, and when he finally gets to the swell of the line _and your keys - oh - your ring of keys_ she hears laughter in the notes as he serenades the girl who locks up the joint.

(It’s too good. Even she can admit that.)

They come to the end, trading _I know you_ back and forth like the invisible ball exercise that starts every rehearsal. The last note fades into the auditorium's rows of empty seats, and he still can't see her, but he hears her walking out, sees the crack of streetlight as she opens the door by the wings and bolts into the parking lot, ponytail and messenger bag flying behind her.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your favorite song says everything about you. Especially in high school.

The next rehearsal, she won't look at him.

Mr. Potter calls the end of rehearsal, and people start to scatter. Ben walks over with a busted prop. "Peg's already gone. What should I do with this?"

"Do I look like your personal roll of duct tape, Pierce?"

"It's just a little busted."

"Yeah, like you? Give it to me."

She turns it over in her hands, examining the torn-off part of the cardboard

"It's fine," she says curtly, starting to walk away with it.

"You're going to need a second pair of hands for that," he calls after her. "Because I made sure of it," he finishes under his breath.

She snags a roll of duct table from a nearby shelf and tosses it over her shoulder. It lands about two feet to his left, but he lets her have the illusion, grabbing the roll and running to catch up.  
  
He finds her in the wardrobe closet - it's about the size of an accessible bathroom stall and is organized meticulously in three vertical rows of racks going all the way around. Max would kill them if he knew they were in there. It's the one place even Margaret won't go without permission, usually.

"What do you want, Pierce?"

"I want to know how the hell nobody knows that we have the next Idina as our fucking STAGE MANAGER."

"Just don't make it about you, Pierce." She says, trusting him with her secret, the raw, fierce edge of her voice telling a long story about passion and talent that's been trampled underfoot for too long.

"I'm curious about that too. How the hell does nobody still know? I can't believe you kept your mouth shut."

"Hey, I can keep a secret when it counts."

She snorts.

"Ok, then tell me one thing"

"No promises."

"What was your first musical?"

"My first?"

"I mean the one that made you start singing like that. The first one you ever really loved, the one you wore out from listening to so often."

"What was _yours_?"

He's not shy. "RENT. But I got over it."

"[One Song Glory](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JgTObLnwYB4) really got you, eh?"

Hawkeye blushes. "Nope. Guess again."

She looks up for the first time, studies him. He's practically winking at her, daring her to figure it out. The question of his sexuality has been both unanswered and taken for granted for the last year and a half. Well, fuck. If she's in for a penny, might as well be in for a pound. The prop fixed, she turns her back on him, starts sorting through the racks, looking for rips and moth holes that aren't there.

A minute of steeling her nerve and she starts under her breath. [L](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9vaiIkFA5I) _[ive in my house](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_bwZGp0j8FI) _

He answers, voice lower and softer than she's ever heard it - [I'll be your shelter](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l9vaiIkFA5I) _-_

Oh, damn. she didn't realize he'd gone for the fucking _reprise_.

She turns around. "Who was it, Pierce?" Her voice is as gentle as she can make it.

He looks horrified for a second. "Oh nononono  - nobody died, Jesus, Maggie."

She rolls her eyes. "I figured. But you are one broken bird if that's your favorite song."

He looks down. Runs his hand up and down the metal pole of the rolling rack. Scuffs his toe against the floor.

"If I tell you about it, will you promise to feign amnesia if ever asked to confirm it?"

"Benjamin fucking  _Pierce_ , you have some nerve asking me if I can keep a secret."

"Okay okay!" he throws a hand up in defeat. "Look, I don't talk about it, ok? Just like you don't talk about... _things_."

Yeah. things like what the hell one does in the lonely comfort of an empty auditorium way past closing time.

"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

He looks up at her. "Yeah, I kinda think I do."

"Suit yourself."

"Okay, the short version is that I got stupid and ruined everything and will never love anybody ever again."

"That all you want to say about it?"

"His name was Tommy, and his parents found us after I convinced him to go make out in a tree house, and now he goes to fucking boarding school in VERMONT and I haven't heard from him since. So basically, he might as well be dead. As is my rotting soul."

"My dad doesn't know I do theater," she blurts out.

He looks at her, tilting his head sideways, eyes searching hers in a way that makes her want to hide among the dresses.

"Is that all he doesn't know?"

"What do you mean _is that all he doesn't know_?"

He puts his hands back up.

"Easy. I'm not going to tell anyone -"

"You're not going to tell anyone anything because there isn't anything to tell!"

She shoves the prop onto a shelf that's supposed to hold hats and starts to storm out of the room, but he catches her wrist as she edges by him

"Look, I promise I'll let you go in one second I just - I just have to know if  - if it's okay for me to wait for you after rehearsal. Yknow. So you don't have to go home alone. Also, I don't have a car and I need a ride because my dad's is in the shop, so if you say no, you'll lose your lead to frostbite."

She doesn't look at him."Um..."

"Pleeeease, Maggie, please? It's either you or hitching a ride with Zale and his car smells like so much weed my parents get suspicious when I get home."

"Fine. Fine. I'll give you a ride home. Because you people would literally fucking DIE without me."

"No argument here."

He drops her hand and follows her out of the costume room. They're quiet all the way to the car. He fumbles with her CDs when he gets in, pushes the passenger seat all the way back to stretch his legs, and flips through the albums. He finally grabs one and slips it into the CD player; she misses which one.

"I've been _dreaming_ about this one," he says, hitting the skip track button eight or nine times. "This is such a dark horse but it's so good."

She gets it in the intro. "Wow, I didn't think anyone else was obsessed with this one."

"Are you kidding? Jekyll and fucking Hyde? Listen, there are songs in here that are basically my soul on fire." She opens the song, letting her voice drift into the softer high notes of Jekyll's falsetto.

He segues into the voice of Mr. Hyde - "[do you really think - that I would ever let you go - do you think I'd ever set you free?](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EXGYdnUe5MA)" and damn, she kind of hates that he's as good as he thinks he is, becuase he is.

Margaret shifts into fourth as they hit the stretch of blue highway that separates her house from his, as the music kicks up a key. Ben rolls the window down, damn the cold, and they're singing together, racing one another for the high drama horror, letting it fly out of their throats.

By the time they reach his house, the windows are rolled up again, and they're finishing the last bars of [For Good](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CQJaZO2nfGg), because he asked with a pouty expression that she couldn't resist. (IT doesn't hurt that she kind of wants to show off the way she can handle a descant)

He leans over and gives her a kiss on the cheek before unbuckling himself, and without a word, he's halfway up the walk, waving her on. She sighs and puts the car in gear, starts home. At least tonight she can tell her dad she was at a boy's house. He'll be so thrilled he'll forget to yell at her for being home late.  
  
She touches the spot where she can still feel Pierce's lips. Someday, maybe, he'll know it was her first.


	3. Chapter 3

Maggie looks around the football field with something like awe. She's spent a collective twenty minutes here over the course of four years of high school, but for tonight, the drama kids have taken over. Ben and BJ convinced Mr. Potter to let them bring in a _bouncy house_ of all things - which is nothing compared to the fact that there are now photos of Mr. Potter  _in_ said bouncy house. Along with Ben and Max mugging for the camera in half the outfits from last year's production of _Hello, Dolly!_ And Ben and BJ descending from schmoopy looks into full blown makeouts while the other cast members jump around them.  
  
There are tables full of popcorn (because theater) and sour gummy things (because they're her favorite), even a box of Fig Newtons for Mr. Potter - the kids have never stopped teasing him about the time he brought four packages to the _Peter Pan_ wrap party.   
  
As they're jumping around, someone kicks up the music -  _Hamilton_ fills the air and suddenly this group of - let's face it, painfully white - high schoolers is all rapid-fire lyrics, and Mr. Potter is rolling his eyes as some freshman begs, "Please PLEASE can we do this next year," while he hollers "Not on your life!" over the roar of awkward teenagers wailing about revolution.  
  
Somewhere in the middle of it all, the field's sprinkler system comes on. There's a mad rush to move the food, but within minutes, everyone's soaked and dancing, reveling the way they do when they know they're living through something that will become a legend in time, a story that everyone tells for years.   
  
Finally, the song comes to an end, just as Mr. Potter figures out how to get the sprinklers off. Margaret looks around at her crew - her people, her soggy, grinning, squelching, sodden gaggle. She's in the same black turtleneck she wears in every show, and Ben wolf-whistles at her, his hands making a _va-va-voom_ shape in the space in front of him. She rolls her eyes.   
  
There's an odd clanking noise behind her. Hunnicutt's coming down the bleachers with a large box balanced on each shoulder. He puts them down near the sidelines and pulls out - is that _champagne_?

Cider. Of course. The kids flood the bleachers, and BJ hands everyone their very own bottle of sparkling cider. As corks pop across the field, Ben leaps up onto a bench and clangs one bottle against the other.   
  
"Speech! Speech! Speech!" he chants, waving his arms to get the rest of the crowd going. Margaret flips him the bird, even as she smiles, hopping up a few levels until she can see them all. Her ducklings, soaked in their closing-night blacks. They wait, expectant. They know she's going to give them some crack bout how they'd better do well without her, how they'd better stay in their light and respect their wardrobes and don't fucking TOUCH their faces after makeup, and a warning to the young'uns to stay off the Gd mic -   
  
She expects it, too.

  
She's got it all on the tip of her tongue.

And then Ben catches her eye. He's wrapped in BJ's arms,  hand is over his mouth like he's ready to cry already.  
  
And she says to them, " Look. It won't be easy."

  
Ben shakes his head wildly at her like  _ don't chicken out, you fool,  _ so she locks her gaze on him for a minute  and then closes her eyes   


_ you'll think it strange _ _   
_ _ when I try to explain how I feel _

The gasps run through the crowd as everyone turns to their neighbor like _DID YOU KNOW I DID NOT KNOW HOLY FUCK HOW DID WE NOT KNOW_. Ben must be enjoying this way too much, she thinks.   
  
_ That I still need your love - _  she opens her eyes and winks at BJ - yes, even yours -  _ after all that I've done. S _ he catches Mr.  Potter standing off to the side with his hands clasped behind his back, chin up, eyes brimming, because damnit, he KNEW there was more to his Magpie, he knew it. He knew about her father; he knew about the time she slept in the booth, about the way she wielded the clipboard like a shield.

  
All the things he knew -  he did not know this.

  
_ you won't believe me _

  
(Damn right I won't, kiddo, he thinks.)

  
_ all you will see is a girl you once knew _

  
(Who's growing up right this very second in front of my brimming eyes. Damnit. How do they always do this to ya, sherm.)

  
_ although she's dressed up to the nines _ __   
  


There's a slight giggle in the crowd as she looks down at her drenched blacks and shrugs like _hey it's in the song; who am I to contradict._   
_ at sixes and sevens with you _

  
The ensemble girls rush in with the chorus, even though she's ready to launch into verse two, but hey, who is she to contradict, and they're all wrapping their arms around each other singing

_ I kept my promise / don't keep your distance.  
_ _   
_ And of course, it's for each other.  
  
She gets through the second verse and another, rowdier chorus, b ut as they're winding into the last verse, she catches Ben's eye again. He  can tell by the way she doesn't take a breath that she's leaving the end for him.  
  
_ and as for fortune _ _   
_ _ and as for fame  
_   
His voice is clear and bright, with none of his usual vibrato or bravado.  
  
_ I never invited them in _ _   
_ _ though it seemed to the world they were all I desired  
_ __   
The underlings and the groupies watch their star as he calmly, confidently strips himself bare in front of them, and the crowd goes utterly silent.

  
_ It was all illusions  _ Maggie chimes in with him, and the group swerves back to her,  _ and all the solutions they promised to be -  _   
Ben nods back at her, and the end belongs to her.

  
_ the answer was here all the time _   
_ I love you - _

  
She chokes.

She fucking chokes.  
The tears slam in out of nowhere and she loses the line, her breath -  and every last one of them, tech and cast alike lifts her up.

  
_ I love you and hope you love me _

  
The last chorus, she's stepping down off the bleachers and they're swarming her for hugs -

  
_ all through my wild days _ _   
_ _ my mad existence _

  
It's hers in a way nothing else has ever been hers.

  
She finishes low, quiet, in the middle of the knot.

  
No one says a word.

  
She turns and exits left, straight to where Mr. Potter stands, and throws her arms around him as her audience dissolves into whooping and thunderous cheers.

 

A month later, it's just her and the stage. She's finished lining up the chairs for graduation, and Mr. Potter's told her to leave her key on the props table. Just her and the stage, one last time, the ghost light the only one left on. Everyone is gone; even Ben isn't there. It's just her, standing alone center stage. She closes her eyes, opens her mouth and sings the last part of "Final Broadcast", sings on her stage for the last time.

_ The truth is, I shall not leave you _

_ Though it may get harder _

_ For you to see me _

She feels a sense of peace, twirls around in the middle of the empty theater, and her grin has nothing to do with the song, but she feels good, for the first time in a while. 

_ There's nothing more I can think of _

_ To say to you, _

She smiles one more time in the black of her theater, and then stalks out, head held high and back straight.

_ But all you have to do _

_ Is look at me to know _

_ That every word is true _

She doesn't look back.

She doesn't need to.


End file.
